


adapting

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: giles raises baby buffy [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: He should place some sort of advertisement in the paper. Wanted: Childcare for Potential Vampire Slayer; Emotional Support for Watcher.(in which giles and buffy adjust to living on a hellmouth. well. mostly just giles)





	adapting

Giles had been in Sunnydale for two days when he nearly got jumped by a vampire on his way back from the grocery store, and it was then that he started considering that he'd made a pretty serious mistake coming to an active Hellmouth just to get away from the Council monitor. Keeping Buffy in his care was definitely not as important as keeping Buffy alive, and living here alone with no one to take care of Buffy if anything happened to him was most certainly a bad idea, which was why Giles was panicking at two in the morning and couldn't go to sleep.

Buffy was awake, but not because she'd been crying. Giles, wanting to remind himself of the one certainty in his life, had picked her up and out of her crib while he paced around her bedroom. She seemed somewhat upset by his anxiety, and kept on making concerned little whimpering noises that didn't really alleviate Giles's stress. He should place some sort of advertisement in the paper. _Wanted: Childcare for Potential Vampire Slayer; Emotional Support for Watcher._

"You," he said to Buffy with some exhaustion, "need some sort of reliable care that isn’t me, because sooner or later I'll probably get murdered by some sun-resistant vampire. It's California, after all. I expect these people can withstand five thousand bloody degrees of heat even after they’re dead." He bounced Buffy in his arms, trying to distract himself. "I'd give you back to the Council if they weren't likely to just lock you in a room and set up a few magical wards to make sure you don't die before you get Called—"

Buffy began to cry.

Giles felt more than just a little bit horrible for passing his worry to Buffy. Part of him wished he'd just stayed at his desk job in the Council, never mind the shame he'd have brought on his family for not accepting a Potential when offered one. Maybe then Buffy would at least be with someone who could keep her safe, if not happy.

But Giles hated the thought of Buffy being alone—that was why he wanted her to have the chance to meet other children. She was such a social butterfly, always smiling and laughing at complete strangers, and Giles knew that the Council didn't approve of Potentials as mischievous and charismatic as Buffy, and who better to take care of her than someone who had dealt with mischievous, charismatic people on a daily basis back in college—lord, was that only seven years ago? It felt like so much longer.

"Shh," Giles murmured, bouncing Buffy in his arms. "Hush now, dear, everything's all right."

It wasn't, really, but he certainly shouldn't be worrying Buffy. Giles did wish there was a manual for rogue Watchers trying to secretly raise a child instead of prepare a Potential, something with affordable resources and self-help tips. It would be a niche sort of book, certainly, but it'd be better than whatever the hell seemed to be going on with him right now.

Buffy had stopped crying, but she still looked upset. Giles took her tightly curled fist in his hand and hummed an old song his mother might have sung to him, once.

* * *

 

There were two daycares within Sunnydale city limits, and both were absolutely out of the question when it came to finding safe and affordable care for Buffy. One was two blocks away from a location where new vampires seemed to enjoy going to spend time, and the other had a two-hundred-dollar entrance fee and was located in the distastefully wealthy section of Sunnydale that Giles was trying his hardest to avoid.

Putting an advertisement in the paper did next to nothing except make Giles panic even more about the possibility of the Council finding it and asking questions he wouldn't be able to answer without incriminating himself and losing Buffy. Adding to Giles's panic was his worry that he was creating a negative home environment for Buffy anyway with all this worrying. He couldn't believe he was even thinking this, but he very much missed Los Angeles.

Growing more and more desperate, Giles decided to check out the two-hundred-dollar daycare. He could always dip into his emergency funds, if need be. Perhaps just a little time, enough for him to figure out something more permanent and definite.

"Hgb," said Buffy from her car seat. She'd started to vocalize a bit more precisely as of late, though nothing amounted to an actual word just yet. Currently, she was chewing on the arm of the small cloth doll Giles had bought her back in Los Angeles. She had grown incredibly attached to that doll, even more so than her old baby blanket.

"Right," said Giles with nervous determination, and pulled into the parking lot of Bright Smiles Daycare. In Giles's opinion, that name better suited a dentist's office, not some ridiculously overpriced daycare full of tiny children with extremely wealthy parents.

After getting out of the car, unbuckling Buffy from her car seat, and picking her (and the doll) up, Giles locked the car and surveyed the daycare from outside. It looked quite nice, it was in the part of town that seemed to have quite a lot of mansions, and it was well protected by a solid brick wall with a mural featuring many eerily smiling children painted near the gate. Giles wondered how desperate for childcare parents had to be in order to walk their children past these small painted goblins every day.

 _Then again,_ he thought, _I seem to be rather desperate myself at this juncture._

"Welcome to Bright Smiles Daycare!" gushed a young woman standing at the door. She was holding a small child in her arms that looked perhaps Buffy's age, if a bit smaller. "You must be Rupert Giles! It's always a pleasure to meet a new member of the Bright Smiles family!"

Stepping into the perfectly symmetrical hallway and neatly organized artwork, Giles was very vividly reminded of the cult he'd had to join as part of an intelligence-gathering mission for the Council. He held Buffy protectively to his chest (Buffy, of course, was at this point very involved with babbling to her doll and didn't really notice) and stepped closer to the woman, inquiring, “Do you, um, have anything to eat?”

“Oh, of course!” said the woman warmly. "We have snacks for you, applesauce for your daughter—"

"Oh, she's not my—" Giles began reflexively, before remembering that he was trying to seem relatively normal to this perfectly nice young woman. "allergic to applesauce," he finished awkwardly. "Which is perhaps very good if that is what you have."

Buffy, taking advantage of her close proximity to the first child her age she’d ever met, threw the cloth doll at the other baby as hard as she could.

 _"Buffy,"_ said Giles, mortified.

The doll bounced off the other baby’s face, and the other baby began to cry. The woman, whose expression had suddenly changed, said awkwardly, “Cordelia’s parents make very generous donations that help finance most of this daycare. I’m terribly sorry, but if your Buffy doesn’t get along with her, Bright Smiles might not be the best fit for you.”

“No, this is just her way of saying hello,” said Giles helplessly. “I think.”

Buffy was watching Cordelia with a sort of scientific interest. Cordelia seemed wholly unaware of the fact that she was being observed, too focused on crying as loudly as possible.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” said the woman again, “but Bright Smiles can only afford to take on well-behaved and well-mannered children.”

Giles had accounted for the fact that he might not be all that good at finding Buffy a daycare. He hadn’t considered that Buffy might not be all that good at daycare in the first place, and it was very difficult to understand, particularly after spending so much time with Buffy. Buffy was excitable and sweet and, well, perhaps a bit rambunctious, but she was most certainly a lovely young girl that any daycare would be lucky to have, and—and he was still just standing here, not saying anything. “Well,” he said finally. “I’ll just search elsewhere, then. Good day to you.”

“Mr. Giles, we can perhaps discuss—” the woman began, but Giles was already turning and hurrying out of the daycare.

As soon as they were outside of Bright Smiles, Buffy began to _wail._ Giles turned and saw the woman, struggling with a still-sobbing Cordelia in her arms and Buffy’s doll in one hand. “I really am sorry,” she said apologetically. “We’re just a very exclusive place. We can’t afford—”

“Yes, thank you,” said Giles exhaustedly, and took the doll, handing it to Buffy. Buffy sniffled and stopped crying, going back to her usual pastime of chewing on the doll’s arm. “I expect we’ll need to look elsewhere, at any rate.” Turning, he hurried to the car, unlocking the door and placing Buffy into her car seat before climbing into the backseat himself.

“You’ve made my life very complicated, you know that?” he said softly to Buffy. “It’s rather impressive. You’re quite small, and yet you’ve caused nearly as much upheaval as Eyghon.” This was quite a exaggeration, but Giles just liked talking to Buffy. As of late, she rarely ever paid any attention to him while he talked, and it was strangely endearing. She lived in her own very happy little world.

Giles leaned back into the seat, thinking. It wasn’t just that Buffy had made a bad first impression, it was that he didn’t want Buffy to be in a place where he constantly felt like he was walking on eggshells. He didn’t want Buffy’s daycare to be dependent on how much money he could shell out to cover any misbehaviors, and he got the distinct sense that this was the sort of place that catered to the rich part of Sunnydale. All the parents who wanted an exclusive experience with only the most well-behaved children.

“I feel a bit bad for that Cordelia girl you threw your doll at,” he said to Buffy. “That sort of place seems as though it might not be the kindest.”

“Pshhh,” said Buffy happily.

Really, Giles thought, he needed some guidance, and there was only one resource in which he’d nearly always found consistently good advice.

* * *

 

Buffy, sitting on the sofa with her beloved cloth doll, watched Giles with a large smile as he entered the room with the third box of books. Giles smiled back, feeling more than a bit reassured by the fact that _someone_ seemed to have steadfast faith in him, even if that someone was a six-month-old who wasn’t well-behaved enough for daycare. “Daycare is rubbish anyway,” he informed her. “I didn’t go to daycare, and look how well I turned out.” He considered this, then winced. “Well. There are plenty of other people who didn’t go to daycare and turned out just fine.”

Buffy held out the cloth doll to Giles.

“Oh—” Giles placed down the box, crossing the room to take the doll from Buffy. “Thank you,” he said very seriously. He knew it was a bit early to start on good manners, but there was a parenting book he’d read recently that said encouragement was extremely beneficial to a growing child. Besides which, he _did_ appreciate the gesture; Buffy didn’t give her doll to just anyone. Buffy did _throw_ her doll at just about anyone, but giving her doll willingly was reserved for only Giles.

Tucking the doll into his front pocket where Buffy could still see it and know it was being taken care of, Giles turned back to the books. He’d brought along a few copies of Watcher journals that the Council had gifted to him, as infant Potentials weren’t generally all that common and the Council seemed to think Giles could use some frames of reference. Giles had been mostly ignoring them out of spite, but quite frankly, he was getting desperate. Perhaps among one of these books he might find some kind of a solution, some Watcher who softened to their Potential and wanted a better life for them.

But after a good two hours spent researching (or, more accurately, one hour spent researching, half an hour spent playing with Buffy—she was _such_ a sweet child, and Giles didn’t want her to feel neglected—and half an hour preparing dinner for the both of them), Giles really hadn’t found anything of use. The Watchers’ diaries were dispassionate and disinterested in their charges, and Giles had the strong sense that these had been specifically selected to encourage a similar mindset for him.

It did make him very aware of one thing, though. These Watchers never really seemed to mention any sort of community or resources, instead putting a specific emphasis on how solitary their lives had become. One Watcher boasted that his Potential’s first encounter with another child didn’t take place until she was eight years old, and even then it was under incredibly controlled circumstances.

“The system is broken,” Giles informed Buffy, and was unexpectedly reminded of Ethan, both of them sprawled in the grass talking lazily about burning the world down. Giles had been frightened, he realized, by what had happened with Eyghon, stumbling to distance himself from rebellion so that no one would ever get hurt again. Choosing to raise Buffy the way he thought would be best was a sideways way of rebelling against the Council without _really_ rebelling against the Council, and it still didn’t really address the actual problems he was creating with his careful approach. He had no real way to make sure Buffy wouldn’t go to another Council operative in the event of his death, no contacts he trusted, no community to fall back on, and he _still_ felt as though impulsive, rebellious behavior was the absolute wrong way to go.

Buffy made a small whining noise and stretched a tiny hand toward the doll in Giles’s pocket. Turning, he absently handed it back to her, but she grabbed plaintively at his hand instead.

“Hello,” said Giles tiredly, managing a smile. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” He sat down next to her on the couch, thinking. He couldn’t at all handle the idea of hosting some neighborhood get-together to meet people; pretending to be a single father for a long period of time would be difficult when faced with cheerful Americans eating his food. All he really wanted was someone he could reliably count on to take care of Buffy if anything happened to him—

The solution to his problems occurred to him quite abruptly. “ _Idiot,”_ said Giles to himself, picking up Buffy and making sure to add for her benefit, “Not you, dear, you’re very smart and let no one tell you otherwise.” Carrying Buffy down the hall to her bedroom, he placed her gently down in her crib before hurrying back to the living room to find a pen and paper.

* * *

 

 _“You’re not serious._ ”

“I assume you received my letter?” said Giles cheerfully.

 _“We did. We’re calling to inquire what on earth would make you think legally adopting the Potential would be a good idea.”_ Travers’s voice was clipped and irritable. _“That sort of thing makes placing her with another Watcher extremely difficult in the event of your demise. It would be significantly different were she British, but there is only so much we can do in regards to the American legal system.”_

“Oh, I’m aware,” said Giles, who was feeling thoroughly proud of himself at the moment. “I simply feel that—well,” here he dropped his voice a bit dramatically, “I’m of the mind that it also makes things more difficult for any family member to step in. You don’t want just anyone swooping in and claiming guardianship of a Potential, Travers, do you?”

On the other side of the room, Buffy noticed a dog outside and started shrieking with delight.

 _“What on earth is that racket on your end?”_ Travers demanded.

“Television,” lied Giles, making a _shh_ motion to Buffy (who, as usual, happily ignored him and pressed her hands up against the window while she stared at the dog). “Listen, Travers, I’ve been doing a bit of digging,” this part actually _wasn’t_ a lie, “and this particular Potential has quite a few relatives in this area. I’d move, but I’m taking my research responsibilities _quite_ seriously.”

 _“Mr. Giles,”_ said Travers, _“tread carefully._ ”

Giles winced. That didn’t bode well. “I’m sorry?”

 _“These constant changes in your approach to training your Potential are giving me doubts,”_ said Travers. _“I will support your request to adopt the child and pull a few legal strings, but only because you claim that there is danger of a relative ‘swooping in.’ I hope you understand that you make any more requests and we will conduct a very thorough investigation.”_

Giles felt almost dizzy with delight. He _did_ feel awful about using Buffy’s relatives as though they were pieces in some horrible game of chess. But he’d be able to make legal arrangements that would keep Buffy out of the hands of the Council in the event of his death, and that was truly comforting to him.

Buffy, meanwhile, was still very distracted by the dog, which was chasing a squirrel. “Go!” she shouted suddenly, and Giles nearly dropped the phone. “Go go go!”

_“Mr. Giles?”_

_“Go!”_ Buffy crowed, and hit the window as though watching a high-speed chase.

Giles stared, eyes wide, and a slow, proud smile spread across his face. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Good day, Travers.”

_“Good day.”_

Giles waited for the _click_ of the receiver before crossing the room to scoop Buffy up. She uttered a whine of protest, peering over his shoulder at the dog and the squirrel. “Go,” she informed Giles sulkily, which did make it a bit unclear as to whether she knew what she was saying was an actual word.

Giles chose to believe that she was just trying to be mysterious. “Yes, it did go,” he agreed. “But you can’t hit the window.”

* * *

To celebrate their small victory, Giles decided to take Buffy on a walk to the nearby park. She’d been mostly cooped up since the daycare incident a few days ago, and he thought they could both do with a bit of fresh air. Besides which, he was more than a little bit proud of the high-quality stroller he’d gotten for Buffy, and he wanted to see if it worked as well as advertised.

Buffy was always very happy about getting dressed and going outside; she was a very sweetly cheerful little thing. Carefully buttoning Buffy’s tiny sweater, Giles lifted her up and into the stroller, tucking her doll in with her. “Now, if we meet any new children, kindly try _not_ to throw things,” he instructed her.

Buffy smiled. It was very clear that she had no qualms about throwing things.

They lived in a refreshingly shady part of Sunnydale. Giles was not at _all_ fond of the sun that the town’s name advertised, and very much missed the chill of England. Buffy very clearly loved the sun, but was willing to settle for the breeze and shade that the many trees in their neighborhood allowed. It _was_ pleasant, Giles had to admit, and very lovely to walk with an excitable Buffy in her stroller (who had just seen a pigeon and was babbling happily in its direction) without all that many plans for the day. It felt like the sort of break he needed after the panic of their first week in Sunnydale.

“Do you suppose things will settle down?” Giles asked Buffy, stopping the stroller to peer down at her.

Buffy gave him a very irritated look, crossed her arms, and said, _“Go.”_

“You’re quite a demanding little girl, aren’t you,” said Giles affectionately, and went back to pushing the stroller.


End file.
